


No Harm

by ThreeFeathers



Category: The Hobbit (2012)
Genre: Fluff, Kisses, M/M, Shmoop
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-19
Updated: 2013-04-19
Packaged: 2017-12-08 22:41:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 681
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/766882
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThreeFeathers/pseuds/ThreeFeathers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thorin is not sure when exasperation stopped trumping attraction. Bilbo would like to keep his shirt, thank you very much.</p><p>(A gift for the lovely authoressjean, who requested touching and a first kiss and schmoop.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	No Harm

**Author's Note:**

  * For [authoressjean](https://archiveofourown.org/users/authoressjean/gifts).



After Azog and the eagles and climbing down to the road and finding huge, looming Beorn, all Bilbo Baggins wanted was to collapse onto the nice warm bed in the corner and sleep. That was it. Which was why Thorin Oakenshiled, despite being mostly in one piece and remarkably without his usual glare, was a decidedly unwelcome addition to his little room.

“Um,” said Bilbo, “Yes? I mean, was there something you needed?”

Not exactly his finest prose, but considering the day he’d had, he deserved some leeway. Thorin clearly didn’t think so, as his face had fallen into its usual harsh lines. 

“Off with your shirt, Master Baggins.”

For a moment he thought he’d misheard. “Wha - Thorin!”

Big hands closed around the bottom of his shirt and yanked upwards. Bilbo thrust both hands desperately into the white material, holding it down and edging away from the clearly addled Dwarf. Thorin shuffled after him, determinedly tugging his hems, and they did an awkward tottering dance around the room. Despite Thorin’s best efforts, the shirt stayed on, and Bilbo escaped by putting the little table in the middle of the room between them.

Bewildered, Bilbo squinted across at the mighty scowl on Thorin’s face. “What,” he asked, “What exactly do you think you’re doing?”

The scowl deepened. “I’m checking you out.”

“...Sorry?”

“Your side, Master Hobbit, and the bruises on your back you complained of.” By now the scowl was positively thunderous. “Off with the shirt and sit on the bed. We’ll need to check and make sure you’re not bleeding on the inside.”

“Oh.” For a moment (just a tiny little one) Bilbo was disappointed. “Oh! Well, why didn’t you say that?! I feel fine, really, but I’ve no wish to go about with an injury I don’t know about!”

Thorin gave him a slightly sour look, but at least the scowl was fading. The Dwarf looked at the Hobbit expectantly. Bilbo looked right back.

An enormous sigh left the Dwarf suddenly. His voice was surprisingly patient. “Take the shirt off, Bilbo.”

“Ah. Right. Sorry.” Bilbo tugged the shirt over his head, wincing as it stretched his side, and sat cautiously on the very edge of the bed. Thorin was on him immediately, tracking the marks on his side and back, occasionally pressing gently against the edges of a bruise. Bilbo winced and twitched, but despite thick calluses Thorin’s hands were gentle and warm where they traced across his skin. 

Bilbo quickly found himself squirming for an entirely different reason, and focused very carefully on his hands rather than look at Thorin.

Gentle fingers found the very edge of a little bruise on the small of his back, near the spine, and Thorin began tracing absent-minded circles around it. Bilbo shivered and chanced a glance at the Dwarf, expecting to find him distracted and staring into space. Instead blue eyes caught his - and held.

Slowly and deliberately, Thorin dragged his fingers in a slow caress up Bilbo’s spine, and closed his hand gently around the back of Bilbo's neck.

“Oh.” Bilbo’s voice was rather to breathless for propriety, but from the way Thorin was leaning into his space and tugging him forward, he doubted it mattered.

Rough lips caught his, a methodical, careful press. Then another, and another, until Bilbo’s mouth opened on a little gasp and suddenly Thorin’s tongue was stroking into his mouth. In and out, gentle and almost teasing, and soon the weight of Bilbo’s body was pressed entirely against Thorin as they exchange languid liquid kisses in the flickering candle-light of the room.

Thorin pulled away slowly, to rest his forehead against Bilbo’s. “You are entirely too prone to self-sacrifice for one so small, Bilbo Baggins.”

Determined blue eyes bored into his own from inches away. “I think it’d be best if you stayed close to me from now on, Burglar. For safety’s sake.”

“For...for safety’s sake?” Bilbo echoed faintly.

“Precisely.”

And those lips were on his again. If this was something that fell under the umbrella of keeping him safe, Bilbo was all for it.


End file.
